


Erik Lehnsherr Learns How to Properly Woo an Angry Telepath (And Other Miscellaneous Adventures)

by Alas_Poor_Yorick



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Fluff, M/M, Post-Beach Divorce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alas_Poor_Yorick/pseuds/Alas_Poor_Yorick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik sees Charles in a wheelchair, having not none about it before showing up at the mansion, but Charles won't have any of the pity or political talk that comes with Magneto's visit. Still too bitter to even approach the subjects Erik wants to bring up, Charles refuses to talk to the metal manipulator.  However, Erik, as always, is steadfast in his determination and won't give up his growing feelings for the Professor without a fight. In this rather odd set of circumstances, Professor X finds himself being wooed by his former lover/arch-rival.In the background the X-Men and the brotherhood are just plain sick of all the goddamned sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, X-Men First Class does not and never will belong to me. This is all for fun and I think it's going to be a 2 or 3 shot. I'm a die hard Cherik shipper and I needed to write this idea. I hope you enjoy it! Comment, kudos, bookmark, etc. *this starts off far angstier then I planned, but it will become more lighthearted and fluffy. I promise!*

The first time Charles saw Erik, after that awful day in Cuba, was on a quiet day in October at well past midnight. The estate's flora and fauna shown in resplendent shades of red, yellow, and brown, while the ivy climbing the stone walls of the mansion only continued it's upward assent. The foliage gave the house a more weathered appearance, contributing to its esteemed look. While the manor remained in excellent care, the same couldn't be said for its owner.   
On this serene night in October, Charles Xavier sat in his study, the only sound in the room being the scratching of pen on paper and the distant sound of leaves rustling in the gardens. The man himself sat behind his desk in a silver wheelchair , head bowed as he filled out paperwork. His hair, though cut, was unkempt, as if he had been running his fingers through it, and dark bags were heavy under his eyes. His features were gaunt and his once sparkling, mischievous eyes were saddened and serious. Of course, this was the night Erik decided to drop in, planning to try and negotiate with his old friend.  
Azazel teleported in, leaving the metal manipulator behind as he left to wait in the grounds for his leader's call. Erik wore that blasted helmet, but thankfully without that tasteless cape he favored. He waited, expecting Charles to look up and say, with at least an insincere smile,"Hello, old friend." However, what he got was entirely different.  
Charles didn't even lift his head as he placed his pen down and rested his face in his hands.  
"Please, leave."  
Erik frowned,"Come, Professor, is that anyway to greet an old friend?"  
"I doubt it. However, Magneto, I am in no way in any state to receive company, so I shall repeat myself. Please, leave." Charles finally looked up and his dilapidated state only made Erik's frown deepen.  
"Aren't you going to stand up? It's only respectful, no?"  
"I can't disagree, but-"  
"Then get on your feet, why don't you?" Erik reached for Charles's wrist and pulled, smirking all the while. What he failed to recognize was the growing expression of panic on Charles's face.  
"Erik, no, wait, stop!" The professor's hands scrambled for purchase, but the polished surface of the wood allowed for none. Charles ended up on the floor, cringing at the pain that shot up his spine and the empty feeling in the back of his mind  
Now it was Erik's turn to panic, as he stared down incredulously at his former friend. "Charles, why aren't you getting up? C'mon, Charles, c'mon."  
The telepath couldn't help grimacing."I'm afraid I can't, my friend. The control of my legs has been lost to me."  
"No, Charles, you can't mean-"  
"I'm afraid I do. I'm paralysed below the waist, and as you've so kindly pulled me out of my wheelchair, I would request your help in getting back into it."  
Erik paced behind the desk, pushing the chair forward, all the while staring between his former partner and the metal seat in appalled horror. He rushed forward to help Charles, but the telepath waved him off. Instead, lifting himself into the chair with gritted teeth. Once seated, he looked at Erik in cold bemusement.  
"Trust me, my friend, my disability has forced me to build a great deal of upper body strength."  
"Charles, I didn't know about this, please I just wanted to talk. We belong on the same side you and I, not going against each other-"  
"I'm not going to do this, Erik. As of now, I'm filing with the state of New York to become a school in the next few years. Seeing as planning this rather large endeavour will take time, I doubt I'll be focused on dealing with your Brotherhood."  
"A school?"  
"Yes, a school. A place where young mutants can live and thrive and learn in safety and peace. Where those who need help can come and receive it without ridicule. I want every mutant to have that acceptance that they crave, the acceptance you and I didn't have. I don't want to teach them that the brotherhood are our enemies, as mutants must be united. However, I will not support the violent uprising you propose."  
"Charles, just listen to me-"  
And then Charles finally seemed to deflate. "You've taken my sister, my legs, and my heart away from me already. You left me bleeding out on a beach in Cuba, while you departed with that blasted helmet and Shaw's former allies. Isn't that enough? I won't argue with you. Please, Erik, just leave."  
The metal bender's shoulders slumped, a single tear running down his face. "I'm so sorry. So so sorry. I swear I didn't know-"  
"Well, your apologies are well-warranted, but very late, as you can see. Now, please, Erik, leave me in my misery, and get out. I'm tired and angry and have no desire to deal with this as of now. Please, get out."  
And on that last desperate plea, Erik called Azazel and they teleported back to Brotherhood headquarters.  
\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---  
Upon his return, Erik strode to his quarters and collapsed on his bed. Tears streaming silently down his face.  
A knock sounded at the door and Mystique yelled, "C'mon, boss man, let me in." He didn't respond verbally, but undid the doorknob with a flick of his fingers.   
She strutted into the room and sat down next to him on the bed.  
"So I heard you went to talk to Charles?" He nodded. "I'm assuming it didn't go well. What, did he start with the whole pacifist and negotiations spiel? Or even better about how we should try to integrate into society? Or better yet-"  
Erik couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't hide this from her forever. He whispered, "He can't walk."  
She stopped her tirade,"What?"  
"He can't walk."  
"No, you must be joking in that strange twisted way-"  
But then Erik lost it,"HE CANT WALK! HE'S PARALYSED AND CANT USE HIS LEGS. HE'S CONFINED TO A WHEELCHAIR, MYSTIQUE!"  
Tears started to well in her eyes,"It can't be."  
"It is and it's all our fault. If only we hadn't left him on the beach..."  
"But the wound didn't look that bad-"  
"Come now, even us without medical expertise could tell that the bullet hit was lethal. But what did we do? We left anyway. We left a man bleeding out from the back without anyway to get help."  
Mystique was rocking herself back and forth now. "He took me in and clothed me and fed me and protected me. He may have made me stick to camouflage, but if I slipped he was always there. I left my brother for dead on the beach, and didn't even think of the consequences. I love my brother. That's not how you treat a loved one, that's how you treat your worst enemy, not even your worst enemy."  
Erik rested his face in his hands,"And I love him too. Yet I did the same. When I went to speak to him tonight he couldn't even bear to discuss anything, and who can blame him? He's depressed and paralysed all because of us." Then Magneto stood up abruptly,"I'm going to fix this. Damn the brotherhood. Charles is more important then this sham of a cause. We're not doing anything anyway. I'll find a way to combine our ideas, without being a hard headed ass. I will do anything it takes to get him healthy and happy again. Lord knows he deserves it. I love him and I'm not losing him to this."  
Mystique stood to face him,"And I'm there right beside you."  
"I just don't know how to fix this..." Erik looked forlornly into the distance, until Mystique gripped his shoulder in support.  
"And neither do I. But we'll figure it out. At least I hope we can..."


	2. Erik's Second Attempt at Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries again to fix his mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is running longer then expected. It will get fluffy soon I promise! As always, I do not and never will own X-Men First Class or the X-Men. I hope you enjoy. Comment, kudos, bookmark, etc.

A week passed peacefully after Erik's impromptu visit, but the quiet didn't last long. The sincerity of Erik's pleading weighed heavily on Charles's mind, but he couldn't be swayed. The feelings of betrayal and abandonment and, most prominently, hurt, remained in the forefront of the telepath's mind. The stress of anticipating Magneto's next visit, was affecting Charles's health, but in no positive way. He tried to eat, he really did, but it seemed he could stomach little beyond tea. He didn't know whether it was the effect of the medicines they had him on, but his appetite was dwindling to put it lightly. In addition, Charles was plagued with horrible migraines, which would keep him stationary for hours on end at their worst. Hank was getting increasingly nervous about his declining health, as were Alex and Sean, but Charles just waved them off. He wasn't worth their worry. Charles was probably working himself to hard, but working kept his mind busy, making him focus on something other then Erik and Raven. He was ready to send a new article to a genetics journal, which would reflect well on him, despite that he was now disabled. The thought of the chair he sat in still made him cringe. In addition, Columbia University had offered him a professorship when he felt he was ready to return to the public. Charles wasn't sure whether he was going to take it, but it seemed a lucrative situation, as setting up a school took time. Though he wasn't sure whether the job was a positive yet, he decided to call the dean of the university, which forced him to remain in the kitchen for a few hours on the phone.   
As he was listening and taking notes for future consideration, Charles forgot to focus on his telepathy, which meant he completely missed Azazel's short presence in the mansion.   
When he returned to his study in a contemplative state, Charles almost missed the bouquet of roses sitting on his desk. They were tied together loosely in a long piece of gossamer white ribbon and it was only when he picked one up that he realized they were made of metal. There were a dozen of them, each one intricately detailed and unique, like a flower freshly grown, the only difference being the lack of thorns on the long stems. The stems were made of copper that looked as though it's been aged rapidly, so that it rusted green. The stems evolved into buds that held the flowers themselves. The blooms were stunningly beautiful, each petal delicately crafted and fused together to form a full rose. The flowers were all a maroon color with strands of pinks and purples running through them and the metal was smooth to the touch, folded over at the edges and blunted so as not to cause injury. The color seemed familiar to Charles, but he couldn't place where the hue was from.   
The fact that the flowers were metal meant that there was only one person who could have crafted them. The quality and effort put into the gift was a dead giveaway that Erik had made them, most likely making Azazel drop them off.  
His former lover's gift brought forward the memories of that horrid day, most vividly of Erik walking out of the submarine, Shaw's corpse a gruesome spectacle to behold floating in the air. Then the memory of Erik putting on Shaw's helmet, and that's when he realized where the color was from. The roses were made of Shaw's helmet. When he went to pick up the whole bouquet, a note fell on to his desk from amongst the flowers. The card was hand-written in a flowing script and reads,"Schatz, please. All I want to do is talk. I'm sorry. -Erik."  
The note caused burning tears to flood Charles's eyes, but they were far from tears of forgiveness. Anger was brewing low in his stomach, if Erik thought he could be won over with physical objects, then the metal-bender didn't know him well at all. Erik may think him a shallow and spoiled brat, but he wasn't one to be persuaded with gifts. Charles had grown up to little affection, exception being Raven's presence. Occasionally, his mother had pulled herself out of the bottle to order him an extravagantly expensive gift to show her 'love.' However, Charles's telepathy had shown him the disdain she felt at having a freak for a son.  
He crumpled the note in his fist in a fit of vindictive rage, before he pulled out a sheet of paper and pen.   
Then he wrote;  
"Magneto-  
Leave me well alone. If I wish to speak to you, you will know. I will not be won over with physical articles of apology, you bastard, I don't care what they're made from. Fuck off, Erik, your efforts are unwanted by me, in particular. Don't you have a Brotherhood to run?

CFX"

He folded the note into thirds, addressed the back with an impersonal "Magneto" and placed it on his desk where he knew Azazel would come back sometime soon to check for Erik. He then went to his room and slept for a good twelve hours, lord knew he needed the sleep, and, sure enough,when he returned in the morning the note was gone,the roses remained.  
\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---&\---  
When Azazel returned from his quick visit to Westchester, Erik was tapping his foot impatiently, anxious for whatever news came from the teleporter. When the Russian popped back into headquarters, he looked rather grim.  
"Your professor looks rather unwell, boss." His Russian accent was heavy, as was normal, but he sounded saddened. Azazel passed the letter to its true recipient, but his previous statement made the metal bender sit up straighter.  
"What do you mean, Azazel?"  
The other mutant frowned,"He looked sick." And then he popped out of headquarters to wherever he needed to go.  
Once the other man was gone, Erik more closely examined the letter in his hand. On the back of it, was a hastily scrawled "Magneto," which hurt a bit, if Charles couldn't call him 'Erik', then who could? However, the note on the inside pained him more. The tone of the writing was scathing and angry and, most horribly, sincere. Charles only ever wrote what he truly felt, even if it was in a moment of rash behavior.   
Mystique came running around the corner, a smile on her face.  
"I heard that Azazel came back from Westchester with news. That has to be a good thing! Right?"  
"I'm afraid not. Read the letter." He passed the note to her and watched her scan the text until her face fell in despair.  
"Oh."  
"Yes, oh. According to Azazel he looks ill too, worse then last time I saw him. What did I do wrong? I thought he would like that I destroyed the helmet."  
Mystique sighed despairingly,"I don't think that's the problem," then a look of dawning understanding crossed her features and she sighed again,"Oh, Charles..."  
He leaned forward,"What do you mean 'oh Charles'?"  
She looked at her lap,"You have to understand, saying that Charles's childhood was shitty is an understatement."  
Erik frowned,"What do you mean? He grew up in the damn huge estate. How could that possibly be terrible?"  
"A posh exterior doesn't guarantee positivity inside too. Sharon Xavier, his mother, was a woman with little to no maternal instincts. She was a raging alcoholic and a truly awful drunk at that."  
"Ok, so I was wrong. But what does that have to do with his response?"  
"Up until his teenage years, Sharon would show her 'love' and try to gain forgiveness from Charles by giving him physical objects of some ridiculously high value, but not reinforcing them with emotional affirmation. The truth is that you can't hide your true feelings from a telepath, which meant that Charles always knew how ashamed Sharon was of her 'freak' of a son. She gave up when he turned 18, I think. That's probably why he got so furious at the flowers. Gifts for apologies are all fake to him, understandably."  
"Ah... Damn it, I don't know what to do!" Then he sat up straight,"What does Charles like when he's sick or hurt?"  
"Not much, he doesn't eat when he's sick."  
"Nonsense! Everyone eats something when they're sick. Not even soup?"  
"No, when he's ill he can't control his telepathic boundaries, which gives him terrible headaches. Food becomes too much on his senses."  
"Did he ever eat anything after being sick?"  
"As I recall, he always ate marzipan afterwards," Mystique shrugged,"Weird, I know, but our cook would always make it for him. She was originally from Austria, I think."  
"Marzipan?"  
"That's what I said."  
"Then I have an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll update this and my other works ASAP. Comment, kudos, bookmark, etc. I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS!

**Author's Note:**

> Please do comment! I love reading them and the critiques are always good. Again, comment, kudos, bookmark, etc.


End file.
